


Cobbled Bits and Bobbles

by a3rie



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 19:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a3rie/pseuds/a3rie
Summary: a place to put all the little Trollhunters drabbles I've written and previously only posted to tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

The quiet of the safe-house was broken abruptly as the soft repetition from the transistor radio in the corner suddenly crackled.  
  
The pre-recorded interlude cut off, which was unusual because it wasn’t time for the twice daily reports given in between the secret broadcast. Strickler held up his hand to silence Nomura, she could finish recounting her tale after this.

“ _To anyone listening! THIS IS A CODE ALEXANDRIA! I REPEAT! CODE ALEXANDRIA! GRAB WHAT YOU CAN AND SCATTER! GUNMAR IS KILLING EVERYONE! LEVEL TWO OF THE ARCADIA OUTPOST IS A GRAVEYARD AND IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF–_ ”

The frantic yelling was cut off with a scream before the line fell to static.

The glass shattered in Strickler’s grip, tea dripping unnoticed into his lap and onto the floor.

Nomura’s normally cool and collected expression was wide and grief stricken as she stared across the room. Sure, they didn’t like even half the other changelings but they were all they had ever had. They were a family, dysfunctional and untrustworthy though they could be. Not even with all of their bickering and problems would they ever have turned on their own on a scale such as that.

Strickler looked down at his palm and the glass that was embedded there. He cleaned the wound without even flinching as his resolve solidified.

They were going back. And they would help end this war at any cost. His eyes bled red as he stood up.

“Get your coat. We’re leaving right now.”


	2. Chapter 2

Barbara rested her head against the back of the couch and yawned, shamelessly propping her feet up on the coffee table– it had been a long day, she would indulge. Beside her, Walter had one leg crossed over the other and a small stack of papers in his lap, mercilessly marking through some hapless student’s homework.

After a few moments of content silence, Barb turned to look at him, shifting to stretch in the same movement. He was lost in thought, his pen cap tucked between his lips and the other half twirling effortlessly between his fingers as he re-read a paragraph and frowned. She always enjoyed watching him work, he had so many different thinking faces, it never failed to bring her some amusement.

He seemed to sense her eyes on him and turned to face her, capping his pen and giving her his full attention.

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” she replied far too quickly and with a fond smirk that wouldn’t be hid.

“Nothing? It certainly looks like something.”

“Not at all. Merely admiring your way with a pen. Your students must tremble in fear before you and your mighty ink well.”

“This doesn’t need an ink well,” he started then realized that was not the point behind her teasing.

His lips curved into a half smile and one brow rose in silent question. “The pen is mightier than the sword they say. And I have quite a talent for both.”

“Pens and swords, he says” she replied, smothering a laugh.

“A man of many skills, I assure you,” he said, trailing the end of his pen along the curve of her shoulder, tracing the collar of her shirt. The light pressure of the smooth metal tickled and she flinched away with a laugh.

Not to be discouraged he scooted the few inches needed to put her back within his easy reach.

“Would you care for a demonstration?”

He used the bottom of the fountain pen to push a lock of hair behind her ear, following the motion and tracing the shell, down again back to the ticklish point he had discovered on her neck.

“You’re awful!”

“I do try.”


	3. Chapter 3

Walt strummed the guitar he had found, clearly something Gerald had left lying about. He spared a moment to wounder why the other changeling felt the need to be such an Irish stereotype about everything. But, it was a lovely instrument, and even though he had more love for the piano, he could more or less play a little of everything-- even if he was rusty.

Lured in by the initial tuning and rambling notes, Barb meandered into the living room.

“I didn’t know you could play guitar.”

“There’s still a great many things you don’t know about me.”

There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he says it. It’s a dumb inside joke by this point, and like most of its kind, it isn’t even funny but it’s something of theirs and she laughs for him anyway.

“Oh, no doubt.”

He cleared his throat and his grin went from charming to devious. The absent-minded strumming began to take on a more familiar tune. She knew the song but she couldn’t place the name, something she might have only heard in passing on the radio once.

Then, he starts to sing.

“ _Would you go with me if we rolled down streets of fire? Would you hold on to me tighter as the summer sun got higher? If we rolled from town to town and never shut it down_?”

He’d always had a rich and memorizing voice but the bass he was now managing to hit sent a shiver right down her back. She laughed despite the fine hairs on her arms standing on end. He had a very nice singing voice but the forced country twang was just a step too far to be anything but amusing.

“ _Would you go with me if we were lost in fields of clover? Would we walk even closer until the trip was over? And would it be okay, if I didn’t know the way_?”

“You are a dork.”

By the end she’s blushing and grinning and he is clearly enjoying every bit of her amusement.


	4. Chapter 4

“Don’t poop at the party, Stricklander! You clearly need to cut loose and I have a day free of obligations. We should give ourselves a day for fun. What’s the point of being rich if we never actually spend any of our ill-gotten wealth?”

“The phrase is "party-pooper” just so you’re aware. Besides, you may have a free day, but I do not.“

The cashier ringing up their coffee took that moment to jokingly insert herself into their conversation as she handed back the shorter man’s change, "Well, if your friend doesn’t want to go with you, my shift ends in fifteen minutes and I’d be more than happy to spend your money for you.”

“Excuse me?”

She laughed nervously as her impulsive sense of humor fought with the more socially awkward portion of her brain. “I’m just kiddin’,” she quickly backpedaled, but now that she had both of their attention she redirected the conversation, “Your accents are amazing and adorable. Hope that doesn’t come off as offensive, I’m sure my own twang could seem the same to your ears. Didn’t hear many british accents back in Tennessee but I did come across the occasional German speaker, being so close to Ober Gatlinburg, I reckon. Took a few classes ages ago back in high school but never kept up with it.  Aaand I’m rambling. Have a great day, y'all.”

But of course it couldn’t have ended there. As if he could sense her barely repressed embarrassment, the taller of the two put on a charming grin as he accepted his cup from her coworker. He gave his friend a conspiratorial look.

“Sprechen sie Deutsch?”

The brunette behind the counter grinned and rolled her eyes, seeming to have come to a decision to stop being nervous. Customer service persona fully engaged, she answered with a self-deprecating shrug, “Nein. Ich sprechen wie ein Kinder?”

Both men snorted at her attempt and she laughed and shrugged again even as her cheeks began to turn red, “Ok, so you get my point. It’s been years.”

“Been awhile since you’ve had any German in your mouth?” Her coworker waggled her brows suggestively, having been shamelessly eavesdropping the entire time. The store was slow and customers had been few and far between for the last hour and both women looked happy for the break in monotony.

“Alright, Lizzy-Beth, none of your sass,” the first girl– Erica, according to the name tag on her apron– said with a well aimed elbow.

Elizabeth threw her head back in a dramatic and near villainous laugh before retreating to the other end of the counter. Well out of arm’s reach she added, “I can totally handle it if you wanted to cut out early. What’s twelve minutes when we’re this dead? You’ve not been on a date in how many _years_?”

The first girl blew a raspberry at her friend in-lieu of getting another swing in. Her face was now a bright red, but there was no helping that.

“There’s no date! I wouldn’t actually invite myself for real, that’s rude!”

“What about accepting a legitimate invitation? What do you say, Otto? You’d have your free day and I wouldn’t have to hear you complaining about my refusal to accompany you.” The man threw a wink to Elizabeth and the woman gave him a double finger-gun salute in approval.

“I don’t know, Strickler, she’s” he waved his hands and shifted his eyebrows as if trying to communicate an obvious problem before settling on, “…young?”

“Well, one, I haven’t actually agreed, and two, I’m actually twenty-seven but I get that a lot.”

“Oh, yes, practically ancient,” the british man said with a nod.

“More like I get mistaken for a teenager at least once a month. Speaking of, though,” she turned back to the man who had started the whole conversation, “what year were you born in?”

He looked suddenly startled and a little nervous,“What? Why?”

“My way of asking how old you are. More people are likely to tell the truth whereas if you open with “how old are you” they may have a pre-determined age picked out to lie with. I’ve got a strict policy of not going out with people who are my dad’s age, ya know?”

Both men shared a snickering laugh. Then, “With you at twenty seven? I can assure you, I am nowhere near your father’s age.”

“So your birthday is?”

“Probably around AD 1202,” he answered with a smile that said he thought himself very witty.

“Oh, that’s cool, then. Once you pass one-fifty the age gap stops mattering so long as the second party is a consenting adult,” Erica answered with an indifferent nod.

Both men blinked and shared a strange look.

The woman smiled and looked up at the clock, “Well, that killed some time. With five minutes, I don’t care to leave now. No, I don’t actually think you’re that old before you keep on giving me looks like I’ve lost my damn mind. Shit, not suppose to cuss to customers. Ah! You guys didn’t hear any of that.”

Elizabeth cut back in with a toothy grin, “There’s a survey at the bottom of your receipts so that you can tell our store how excellent your service was today.”

Laughing with a lingering touch of jittery energy, Erica shrugged out of her work apparel, “So did you want to go to the mall or something?” She failed to see her friend doing a celebratory fist pump or the teasing look the taller of the two men shot his companion.

“Why the sudden change of mind?”

“Well, it was never a hard ‘no’ to start with and honestly, you guys have been pretty fun, as far as customers go. Plus, your friend is kinda cute and I’ve got a very dumb weakness for accents. Besides, this isn’t a date.”

“No?” Both men said in unison, one sounding relieved and the other highly amused.

“Nope! Mall-walking with a complete stranger totally doesn’t fall under the date parameters. If we’re basing all of this off of my original joke, I’m going as more of a consultant, anyway. Maybe we can get you a new hat.”

“What is wrong with my hat?”

“Um. Well, props for actually having a fedora and not a trilby but this one is a little rough for wear. At some point the scuffed look stops being hipster chic and just looks tacky.”

The taller man nearly lost his coffee out of his nose but managed to recover himself, “You’re certainly opinionated. What happened to the flustered young woman from a few minutes ago?”

“Most of my nerves come from indecision. I’ve made up my mind so I’m very specifically not thinking about my actions and instead living in the moment. Compartmentalization, my friend. Give me even just one minute to have second thoughts and I’m backing right the hell out.”

“I can appreciate that logic,” he said with a knowing smirk. “Well, Otto, go buy yourself a new hat. I’ll leave you in the fine company of our local barista.”

“Pfft, I’m not a barista. Way too clumsy for that, I was just covering the register. But yeah, no actual obligation. I’ll be at the mall and if you show up, that’s cool, but if not I’m not going to be the least bit offended.”

She pulled her keys from her pocket and with a jingling wave, walked out the door.

A moment of silence passed. Then, “You know, she didn’t ever clarify which store she would be at.


	5. Chapter 5

She had been skeptical when he’d asked her to a formal night out. Fancy dinner, fancy theater, fancy dancing-- none of it was really what she’d call her pace. However, seeing his face when she first stepped into the room in the nicest dress she owned, she decided it was worth it. His eyes were wide as he drank her in appreciatively. 

“You look positively breathtaking,” he complimented softly. 

“This old thing?” Her smile was teasing, “Funny enough, this was a bridesmaid gown I wore years back for a friend’s wedding. I’m honestly surprised it’s held up so well.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t bridesmaid dresses suppose to keep the other women from outshining the bride in beauty? If you wore  _ that  _ then I don’t see how all eyes couldn’t have been on you.”

“Flatterer.” 

But it was nice. Backless and a deep emerald green that just so happened to complement Walt’s human eyes. She gave him a little twirl to show it off better, and enjoyed the feel of the silk skirt swooping around her legs. It was a novel enjoyment to get to dress up. 

“I didn’t know you had tattoos!”

Oh yes. Backless. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she replied in what she hoped was a flirtatious tone. 

He chuckled as he closed the distance between them, amused to hear his own words tossed back at him. He gently lifted her hair over her shoulders, finding himself pleased that she’d left it free of her usual bun. 

“May I?” He asked, moving to turn her back around again. 

Nodding, she put her back to him. She shivered as his fingers traced the outline of the two wings that had graced her shoulders since college. Then she set out to answer before he could ask why she had them.

“My nickname used to be Birdie. Whether just because it also started with a B or because I was "free as a bird" I don’t really remember. It was just A Thing. Better than Barbie, at any rate. Anyway, it was Spring Break of ‘98 and several of my friends and I were out on the town and impulsive youth was apparently the theme of the night. At least I had enough sense to not get anything tacky and to put them in a place easy to cover up.

Nowadays, being a doctor, I kind of like to think of them as the wings of a guardian angel. That probably sounds really silly. Maybe even a bit blasphemous. But, well, it's one way of giving meaning to a past I'm sometimes at odds with with a present I'm proud of."

Her cheeks were warm with a blush. She really wasn’t embarrassed of them, perse, but they certainly never came up in conversation. 

“Youthful impulsiveness or not, they are beautiful,” Walt answered after a moment. He turned her back to face him and brushed a loose strand back from her face, “ _ You  _ are beautiful.”

Her smile turned sappy at the sincerity in his voice.

“Charmer.”

His lips quirked with amusement, “Yes, well, before we set out, I have something for you. If you’d like it. It may be, a bit old fashioned and it might clash with your outfit but--” he reached behind her to the coffee table and picked up a small box. 

“Oh, it’s lovely.” 

Barbara carefully put the carnation corsage onto her wrist and then turned it over admiringly. It was a lovely deep red that would match the irises of his other eyes. Scanning her very limited knowledge of plant meanings she asked, “Admiration?”

“It can mean that,” he allowed.

“Then what  _ does  _ it mean?”

“Dark red symbolizes deep love and affection.”

She pulled him down for a kiss, “Then it’s perfect.”


	6. Chapter 6

"I don't know what has you so upset, but may I just say, you've got the strangest self-soothing ritual I have ever seen. And I'm a doctor."

"You're lying." He didn't bother getting up from the floor, nor did he unfold from his fetal position.

"Maybe."

"You are. I can tell by that cheeky smirk."

"So, what has you freaking out so bad?" She suspected she knew. If she was right, then she and Nomura were going to have words later tonight.

Walt didn't answer so much as let out a low pitch whine like air being slowly let out of a balloon.

"Want to come sit on the bed and talk about it or is the floor honestly more comfortable."

"It's more about the effort required to move than quality of comfort, at this point."

Well, if he wasn't going to get up then she would meet him on his level. Especially if he was freaking out about the very same results _she_ had been freaking out about not two hours earlier. She stretched out beside him and propped her head on her arm, using her other to ruffle his hair.

"Better?"

"Hn."

His non-commental hum was swiftly followed by him scooting over and closing the distance between them. He wrapped her in a hug, with a surprisingly strong grip given their awkward angle.

"I don't know how I'm going to do it yet, but I'm going to pay Nomura back for this. I can't believe she told you! She did tell you, right?"

"Well, no, not in actual words or in any way that would make sense to normal people. But it was a clear read between the lines moment and now that you've said you'll pay her back I now know I read the lines right."

With his head firmly pressed against her chest he heaved a shuddering sigh, "Am I going to be a father?"

"Well, technically you already are," she teased. He gave her a squeeze and she relented.

"Yes, you are."

He went very still against her and after half a minute of no response she began to worry. Moving her hand against his back, she realized he was holding his breath. She shimmied down in his grasp until they were face to face and he exhaled in a sob before kissing her.

He peppered small kisses along her cheeks and brow while tears silently slid past his guard.

He was going to be a father.

\----

There are so many things that could go wrong.

Barbara got tired of his hovering after the first month.

She loves him she really does, and she knows how much this means to him. She still finds his antics adorably sweet sometimes; but, she’s a doctor and this isn’t her first time in maternity clothes.

“But it’s not going to be fully human,” he says one night over a cup of tea -decaf for her- and she sighs and takes one of his hands into both of hers.

“Sweetie. I know. But we’re going to get through this. It’s going to be okay.”

He sighs and sinks into the chair beside her at the table. He rests his head on her shoulder and focuses on breathing. His heart is over full and he cannot understand how she can be so level headed about all of this.

“Oh,” she says softly and he’s sitting bolt upright again in an instant.

But there’s nothing wrong and her smile is bright as she takes their still entwined hands and places his palm to her stomach.

A moments pause, then, when he feels the kick his heart leaps into his throat.

It’s the first time he’s felt the baby and he looks back up at Barbara in wonder and sees her eyes are also suspiciously bright.

“They’re already so strong,” she smiles and leans forward to kiss him, “I’m strong, too, remember. We’ve got this.”


End file.
